3. THE SUSPECT

CLARA

When I woke up to bright lights and different wires connected to my body, my chest tightened.

A terrible cold crept over me, curling around my ribs like a vice. Someone had done this to me.

But who?

And then it hit me.

Connie.

He had grabbed my bag. He’d been nervous when I took it back, just for a second—so quick I hadn’t given it much thought. But now…

I swallowed hard, turning to mom. “How long have I been out?”

“A day.” Mom’s grip tightened. “But that’s not the worst part, Clara. Your surgery—” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “It has to be postponed.”

I stiffened. “For how long?”

“A month.”

The word slammed into me like a punch to the gut. A month?

After over twenty years of waiting, of endless hospital visits, of careful, calculated living just to survive long enough for this surgery—now, it was slipping through my fingers.

Tears burned my eyes, hot and relentless. I shook my head, the panic rising in my throat. “I can’t wait another month, Mom. I—” My voice broke.

“I know, baby,” she whispered, stroking my hair. “I begged the doctor to hold your spot, and he agreed. But we can’t afford another mistake.”

I nodded numbly, but unease settled in my gut. Even with my place secured, something felt wrong.

The next afternoon, I woke up to the steady beep of the heart monitor. My mom had stepped out to get lunch, leaving the room eerily quiet.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I called, expecting to see my mom.

It wasn’t her.

Lucas walked in, looking as polished as ever in a tailored black suit, expensive watch gleaming on his wrist. His slicked-back hair was perfect, as always.

But my gaze barely lingered on him before shifting to the woman beside him. Ella.

I rolled my eyes. Did he really have to bring her here?

My stomach twisted at the sight of them together, the way she stood just a little too close, like she belonged there. And maybe it was just my paranoia, but she looked like she had a shadow of a mocking smile on her face.

Lucas rushed to my side, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Hey, baby. I came as soon as I heard.”

I leaned into his touch out of habit, but something felt different. Off.

“How are you feeling?”

I ignored the question. “You didn’t bring Connie?”

Lucas frowned. “No, why?”

“Isn’t he the reason she’s always around?” I shot a pointed look at Ella.

Lucas sighed. “Connie isn’t here. Ella needed to see someone at the hospital, so I drove her. She wanted to check on you, too. What is wrong, baby?”

I met his gaze, my voice cold. “Your nephew tampered with my medication.”

Lucas’s brows drew together, clearly offended. “Clara, you can’t possibly—”

“I’m not crazy, Lucas. At the event, while you and she”—I cut a sharp glance at Ella—“paraded around like a perfect couple, I was stuck playing nanny. Connie was the only one who touched my bag.”

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose—his telltale sign of frustration. He looked like he wanted to say something but I cut him off, speaking again,

“I almost died, Lucas.”

Ella scoffed. “That’s impossible.”

I glared at her, but she only smiled, stepping closer like she had the right.

“Connie is a sweet child,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “He would never do something like that. He has no reason to change your medication. But if you insist it was a mistake—” She sighed, tilting her head. “I suppose we have to take your claims seriously. I just hope you won’t hold a grudge. Poor Connie has been through so much with his parents gone. Maybe this was just a—”

“A prank?” I cut her off with a bitter laugh.

I clenched my jaw. “Fine. Let’s check the school’s surveillance footage. That should prove it wasn’t just a prank. Connie knew exactly what he was doing.”

Lucas’s expression hardened. “Clara, please,” he snapped. “Stop this.” He let out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head. “I knew you never liked Conrad, but accusing him of nearly killing you? On purpose? That’s low, even for you.”

His words struck like a slap.

Tears burned my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You think I’m lying?”

Lucas dragged a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “I don’t think you’re lying, okay? But I think you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. I love you, Clara. I do. But if you can’t get along with my nephew, maybe we need to reconsider this wedding.”

My breath caught.

Seriously?

I had loved this man for years, supported him, believed in our future. And now, he was defending a child who clearly didn’t want me in his life.

I always thought I knew him. Maybe I never did.

A sharp pain tore through my chest, not just emotional—but real, physical agony.

Lucas met my gaze, pain flickering in his own. But I knew, deep down, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Maybe we do.” I retorted quietly.

A knock on the door broke the tension.

I quickly wiped my tears. “Come in.”

Dr. Evans stepped in, her expression unreadable.

“Miss Clara, I need to speak with you privately.”

Lucas barely glanced at her. “If it’s about her condition, you can say it in front of me. I’m her fiancé.”

Dr. Evans hesitated. “This concerns her transplant surgery.”

My stomach dropped. The unease from earlier tightened into something worse.

“What is it?” My voice barely made it past my lips.

She hesitated before speaking.

“I’m sorry, Miss Clara. But the heart transplant spot originally allocated to you has been given to someone else.”